


The Last Goodbye

by AshesOfLauren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, F/M, Healer Hermione Granger, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesOfLauren/pseuds/AshesOfLauren
Summary: A decade post-war, Hermione Granger is a successful Healer while her lover, Draco Malfoy is one of the Ministry's finest undercover Hit Wizards. You know what they say, though: all good things must come to an end. Right? (This OS was dedicated to my beautiful friend, Melissa, for her birthday! Love you!)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the result of a plunny that my friend, Melissa, entrusted me with, based on the music video for "Ride" by Chase Rice. I do not guarantee a HEA. You'll just have to read to see. ;)
> 
> If this story seems familiar to you, don't worry. I did not steal someone else's work! I do have this story posted on another forum though, and you may have read it there. ;)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: All canon characters, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this writing.

**The Last Goodbye**

"I have to go. You know I have to go, Hermione." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand and slowly, calmly spoke through gritted teeth. The sleeves of his button-up black shirt were rolled to the elbow, and the veins running along his forearm and through his slightly faded Dark Mark protruded due to the tenseness of his body.

Hermione scoffed. "No, Draco, you don't. You don't!" she insisted when he cut his eyes at her. "You don't have to keep putting your life on the line like this. It's mental! Five years, you've risked it all. Five years! It's someone else's turn. You don't owe them anything!"

"Don't owe them anything?" he asked in disbelief, dropping his arm to his side and staring at his irate girlfriend incredulously. Her cheeks were flushed with her anger, her hair flying around her as if a small tornado had come through and kissed only the top of her head, and even in his anger and aggravation with her, he was momentarily gobsmacked by how beautiful she was. "Hermione, I owe them everything! The Ministry spared me a sentence in Azkaban. They approved my request for Auror training only a year after the war. Me, the Death Eater! They gave me a chance when there was no reason or obligation to do so. And then five years in _they_ asked _me_ to join the Hit Wizard's force. The elite. The best. They trusted me with that. It's my job, Hermione. My responsibility."

"Why can't you make _us_ your responsibility for _once_?" she demanded.

Draco's head snapped back as if she'd slapped him. "Make us…? Why the bloody hell do you think I do this? I do this job for you! For us! Or have you forgotten how I was cut off and thrown out on my arse because I chose to be with you?" He was raising his voice now, which was rare for him, but her wording had struck a nerve. Didn't she know everything he did was for her, for them?

Hermione's eyes hardened. "My apologies. I never meant to make your life so difficult. How selfish of me to love you, to want to be with you, to be the reason you lost your father's favor and your precious Malfoy inheritance," she said in a perfectly calm tone that sent shivers down his spine.

"Don't you dare," he said in a low, tense voice. "Don't you dare turn this around like I'm blaming you for anything, like I'm regretting anything, you absurd, unreasonable-"

"Mudblood?" she asked sweetly and interrupting him. "Isn't that what you used to call me?" Her chest was heaving with her anger, and there was something in her eyes that twisted his heart and made it hard to breathe. Why was she doing this?

"No," he said harshly. "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to throw the little shit I used to be back in my face over a fucking decade later." His hands shook almost imperceptibly by his sides with his rage and, yes, his hurt. "This is my job, Hermione, and I'm going to do it. I'm going to earn my place in this post-war world. I'm going to spend the rest of my life making up for the things I've done. And I'm going to be late for the briefing if I don't leave now." He turned his back on her and walked smoothly to the door of the flat they'd shared for eight years now. He grabbed the small black bag sitting on the floor there and paused with his hand on the knob when she spoke again but didn't turn around.

"I'm done with this. I'm done spending my days wondering how you'll come back to me - through our door or in a body bag." He heard her inhale sharply, exhale shakily. "If you walk out that door, Draco, if you leave now, if you do this, I'm done."

He could feel her eyes, her usually soft brown eyes, burning holes in his back. Draco squeezed his own clear grey eyes shut briefly, and then he stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him with a sharp _click_.

oOoOoOo

Hermione stood frozen and staring at the front door for a solid five minutes after it closed behind Draco. She knew he wouldn't change his mind and come back; of course he wouldn't. Draco would never admit defeat, never back down, never admit he was wrong. Neither would she, if she was being honest with herself, which was probably why they spent half of their time fighting and always had. The other half was reserved for making up. Surely they'd make up again, right?

She wasn't sure how. She'd told him, in not so many words, not to come back if he left again, and she'd meant it. The rational part of her brain knew she may be overreacting, but her heart didn't care. Her heart couldn't take it anymore. Her heart couldn't handle the hours and days and sometimes weeks of wondering if he was safe, if his cover had been blown, if he had been set up.

She was proud of him. Of course she was. Her was an excellent Auror, or rather an excellent undercover Hit Wizard, one of the elite, as he'd said. He'd begun to make a name for himself in the nearly ten years since the war, a name that didn't bring to mind his father, especially among those select few who knew what his true occupation was. It was common knowledge that they'd had a falling out when he'd announced his relationship with Hermione - something everyone had had a hard time believing - and never made up. He'd even been blown off of the family tapestry.

There were still those who thought it was all a rouse, of course, and that he and his father had set up this elaborate scheme in order to allow Draco to earn trust within the Ministry that would grant them both opportunity to continue in their dabbling of the Dark Arts and illegal activity undetected. These rumors were what allowed him to do his job so effectively. The criminals could be convinced that he was one of them, that it would be wise to trust him as he'd have firsthand knowledge of any raids that would happen and could warn them in time. When it was all said and done and they were safely behind bars in Azkaban, the DMLE always did a wonderful job of covering his tracks and making it as though he had had nothing to do with their capture, often keeping the arrests very hush-hush so as not to raise suspicion.

How long could it last though? More and more he was being trusted as one of the "good guys", so to speak, in the wizarding community. Whispers had slipped through the cracks that maybe he had been connected to some of the raids and subsequent arrests that had transpired over the last few years. All the evidence pointed to him still being trusted among the underground Dark magic community, but Hermione was certain that fewer and fewer were going to believe he really was a "dirty Auror" as the years progressed. Eventually he'd burn one witch too many, set up the wrong wizard, be found out. He couldn't keep this up forever. She was furious that they kept asking him to.

Hermione wasn't willing to sacrifice any more of her heart to the "greater good".

He'd told her in, as always, extremely vague detail about the mission he was set to be on tonight, and immediately she'd had a clenching in her gut that screamed _NO!_ For reasons she couldn't name, she had a terrible feeling, and she'd told him as much. Draco had tried to placate her, to tell her everything would be okay, but she was adamant. Something was going to go wrong. When she'd asked him not to go, he'd looked at her as if she'd proposed they adopt a baby armadillo and name it Harry. One thing led to another, harsh words were exchanged, and now he was gone with "I'm done" being the last words she'd spoken to him.

Hermione's breath hitched in a single sob before she bit the inside of her cheek, raised her chin, and headed to their bedroom to change into her hideous lime green robes and get ready for her shift at St. Mungo's. For the next twelve hours she'd have to push her fear aside, push herself and her own life aside. It was what she did. She was a Healer.

oOoOoOo

"Malfoy? You with us?"

Draco's gaze snapped to the dark haired wizard in front of him. Auror Smith was watching him expectantly. "Yes, sir," he replied immediately and mentally chastised himself for letting his mind begin to wander. Of course she had to pick a fight just before-

"What's the plan then?"

He sat up impossibly straighter in his cold metal chair and folded his pale hands in his lap. "Undetectable monitoring and communication charms will be cast before we leave here, though they will remain dormant until I activate them for caution's sake. Andrews, Wills, and McGibbon are my backup, and they'll Apparate from here to three separate spots to wait. I'll arrive at the Leaky Cauldron at 2100 hours. The informant is expected to arrive fifteen minutes later. After the informant approaches me, I'll engage her in conversation for a time. When she has made it clear that it is time to go, I will use the phrase, 'Let's go then, kitten,' which will activate the monitoring charm and cause the pendants around my backup's necks to vibrate, alerting them to my and the informant's impending departure and arrival at the Spot. We have the potential Spot narrowed down to three places, and when I am positive of where the Spot is, I will casually mention it aloud, as the activation phrase will have also activated the communication charms, allowing my backup to hear me and know where to go. The informant should lead me to the target with whom I will begin the exchange: information on the amature Dark Rising for the Dark artifacts I will have in my bag. During the exchange my backup will arrive, and together we will take the necessary steps to apprehend the target and his fellow." _Then I can worry about getting Hermione to come to her bloody senses_ , he added to himself.

Auror Smith nodded. "Good. We have about two hours left to us, so let's go over the finer details."

Draco listened and nodded and recapped the same information he'd heard and told countless times over the last six months, and he pushed all thoughts of Hermione, their fight, and her fucking bad feeling out of his mind as best he could. He had a job to do. He was a Hit Wizard.

oOoOoOo

"Healer Granger? Are you alright?"

Hermione shook her head and looked up into the kind blue eyes of the petite blonde mediwitch in front of her. She realized she'd been standing in front of the workstation clutching the same file in her hands for several minutes now. "Oh. Yes, Nurse Aldridge, I'm quite fine." She tried to give the younger girl a reassuring smile. Evidently it didn't work.

Nurse Aldridge's brows creased with concern. "Are you sure? You seem rather lost in thought, and you're really very pale. No offense," she added quickly, looking alarmed at her choice of words.

"No, it's quite alright. I'm sure. I've just had… a few surprises lately. There's a lot on my plate," she hedged. Hermione smiled a bit more broadly this time. "Whose chart do you have next for me?" she asked, and it seemed to pacify her worried coworker.

She went through the motions, patient after patient, chart after chart, diagnosing and treating and healing and all the while fighting against the curling, twisting fear in her gut.

oOoOoOo

Draco held up two fingers to the barmaid before turning his smirk back to the witch by his side. "Surely we have time for one more drink?" he asked as two glasses slid smoothly between him and his companion. Her perfectly shaped red-painted lips tugged up in a small grin, and she blinked long, thick lashes at him as she brought her glass to her lips, slowly and deliberately. She wore a skirt that was just longer than her knickers, a top that plunged damn near to her belly button and fit perhaps more tightly than her own skin, and six inch fuck-me-heels at the bottom of a set of impossibly long, smooth legs. It was her usual style, but despite all that, it was always her hair that caught his attention. Perfectly tamed, smooth, bouncy blonde ringlets. In truth they were nothing like Hermione's lion's mane, yet they always made him think of her and her pure, natural beauty. He thought perhaps sweet little Melissa may possess that natural beauty as well underneath it all, and he pitied her for feeling the need to change herself so dramatically for the attention of men who'd never truly see her.

"Just the one, then," she purred. "Mmm.. Ogden's Finest, hmm? Why Draco, you spoil me," she said, licking her lips and giggling.

Draco smirked. "Only the best for you, kitten."

Melissa placed her perfectly manicured hand on his knee and ran it up and down his thigh, slipping closer and closer to his crotch with each pass. "What do you say after this boring old meeting is over, you and I finally have some alone time? And I mean really alone, not in a bar or restaurant. Somewhere completely private. Maybe my place?"

Despite the twitch in his cock at the touch and the suggestion - he was a man, wasn't he? - the offer held no allure. Still, he grinned wickedly at her. "I think you and I have absolutely earned some alone time, Mel."

Melissa's face broke into a full, dazzling smile, and Draco was reminded once again how much he hated this part of the job. He'd used people all his life to get what he wanted, but he wasn't that person any longer. Knowing that he was setting up this woman who trusted and, for some reason, worshipped him in a sense made guilt churn unpleasantly in his stomach, but he did his best to ignore it. She was a kind woman with an odd sort of innocence about her, but she'd tangled herself with those who were tangled in the Dark Arts. His hands were tied.

"Well," she said as she drained the last of her drink, "the boss will be expecting us. Time to go I think, Draco."

Draco stood and tossed some coins on the bar top before pulling back her barstool and holding out his arm to her. "Let's go then, kitten."

They stepped out the back of the pub and over to the Apparition point. "Lead the way, doll," he said, and then they Disapparated.

The pair rematerialized in an old, rundown industrial area of Muggle London. Dilapidated tin buildings and rusty, broken down machinery littered the scene before him, and he spotted the Guilding Brothers' logo on both a truck and precariously hanging sign on a building across from them, confirming it as one of the places his team had narrowed down to being the Spot. "Who are the Guilding Brothers?" he asked out loud, letting his partners know their location.

"Some Muggles, I guess. Who knows?" Melissa dropped his arm and took a step to the side away from him. Apparently her relationship with him was supposed to have remained considerably more professional than it had. She led the way, crunching gravel underneath her delicate high-heels as she headed for the building with the sign dangling from its hinges over the door.

"That sign looks as if it's going to fall on us when we walk under it," he said to give his team as much detail as possible.

"Hasn't yet," she laughed. She stopped outside of the peeling doors and said, "Wait here," before stepping through. Draco stood casually and confidently. He knew the target most likely had eyes on him, and it wouldn't do to act suspicious.

After several minutes, Melissa walked back through the doors looking slightly confused and concerned. It was apparent why immediately.

Gaelan Gormley and his right hand man, Hamish Hanaloe followed behind her as had been expected. What hadn't been expected were the several other cronies flanking them. Draco did a quick count using his peripheral vision and maintaining eye contact with Gormley. Ten wizards, plus Gormley and Hanaloe. Instead of outnumbering the suspects two to one as had been anticipated, they were now outnumbered three to one. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

"Malfoy," Gormley spoke softly in a thick Irish accent.

Draco inclined his head. "Mr. Gormely, Mr. Hanaloe. Forgive me, but I don't recognize your companions," he said smoothly to alert his team of the unanticipated additions to their meeting.

Gormely smiled charmingly with blazing white and perfectly straight teeth. "No worries, lad. My assistants aren't exactly relevant to this meeting, now are they?"

Draco gave a dazzling smile of his own. "Of course not, Mr. Gormley."

"Call me Gaelan, boy."

"Gaelan. Shall we go somewhere more comfortable to discuss business, or…?"

Gaelan swept his arms out wide. "I'd say here is as good a place as any, wouldn't you? I prefer the open air, personally," he said with a wink.

"As you wish." Draco slung his bag off of his shoulder slow enough not to alarm but fast enough not to seem suspicious.

Hanaloe stepped forward to retrieve it from him, his amber eyes hard and unreadable. He set it down at Gaelan's feet, and the pair set about rummaging through it, inspecting the contents with protective gloves and ensuring all the pieces requested were present and accounted for.

Melissa's eyes kept darting back and forth between the two Irishmen and Draco, looking more alarmed by the second. One thing was clear: Mel hadn't intentionally set him up. It was a small comfort, and he mentally vowed to do his best to help her out when this was all over and the subjects - all twelve of them - were apprehended. And they would be apprehended.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, it seems everything is in order," Gaelan announced.

"Draco," he corrected.

"Draco, then. Name your price."

"It hasn't changed," he said. "I just want to know how to join the new Dark Rising. I believe with my position within the Ministry, I could be of a lot of use."

"Oh, no doubt you could, lad." Gaelan nodded vigorously. "The question is, use to whom?"

The alarm bells in his head began to ring loudly, but he maintained his composure. "You and Mr. Hanaloe. Whoever is leading the Rising. I'd help wherever I was needed." Draco took a step toward him, appearing pleading and passionate. "For over a decade I've been playing it safe, putting up with the Ministry and residual Order members and the bloody fucking Golden Trio," he spat. "Self preservation is essential. Once a Slytherin, and all. Now though, now there is finally something out there worth doing, worth working for, worth risking for. This Rising is the reason I've worked so hard to maintain appearances for so long. They trust me now. Forgive my forwardness, but I could be invaluable."

Gaelan nodded thoughtfully. "It's true. I believe you are absolutely an invaluable resource. Hamish, what say you?"

"Oh, yes. I believe so as well," he said, stony faced, and if Draco had had any doubts before, he now knew he had been set up and that the ambush was about to commence, because Hamish Hanaloe didn't trust him with a single fiber of his being. He sent up a silent prayer to whatever deity may be listening that his team was in place. They'd never failed him yet.

"Excellent," he said with a wicked grin that didn't come close to reflecting how he was really feeling.

Gaelan frowned. "Excellent? Well now, I suppose that depends on where you're standing, doesn't it?" He took a small step forward and lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Where are you standing, Draco?"

As one, the assembled wizards reached for their wands, and the night exploded. Andrews, Wills, and McGibbon materialized in three separate corners, and instantly the former fell to the ground, hit by too many Dark curses to possibly come back from.

And then they were outnumbered, four to one.

_I'm sorry, Hermione._

oOoOoOo

"She's stable for now. Keep alternating between heating and cooling charms every half hour, Nurse Aldridge. I'll be back to check on her by midnight, and hopefully we can get a better feel of the damage then." Hermione wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she swept out of the hospital room. She didn't usually work Emergency Dark Arts Reversal, but they were short handed and swamped tonight, so she was filling in. Half of the EDAR team had come down with Dragon Pox, of all things, and in truth, they couldn't get better soon enough. Hermione preferred the intimacy of her longer-term care patients to this bustling, hectic emergency room any day. At least she hadn't really had time to think about Draco and their fight and the bloody mission he was on and the nauseating feeling in her gut-

A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly into the nearest broom cupboard. "Talk to me."

"For goodness' sake, Harry, what are people going to say about you yanking me into closets?" she asked her best friend indignantly.

"I don't give a flying fuck. Talk. Now," he demanded.

"About what?"

"About whatever has you so distracted. No offense, 'Mione, but you look terrible and like you're about to fall apart. What's wrong?" he asked more gently this time.

"Nothing. EDAR just stresses me out, that's all," she lied.

"Hermione."

Hermione sighed, and to her horror tears sprung up and leaked over before she could stop them. "Draco and I had a terrible fight. I told him if he went on the mission planned for tonight not to come back to me. I've had such a bad feeling about it, Harry."

"Draco's excellent at his job. He'll be okay." He didn't even have to ask if he'd gone. He knew him too well by this point.

"What if he's not? What if 'I'm done' is the last thing I ever said to him? Harry, something's not right, I'm telling you!" She was working herself up into hysterics.

Harry pulled her into a tight hug. "It won't be, okay? It won't." He stroked her hair, which was quickly escaping the knot she'd tied it into, and let her sob momentarily on his chest.

After a minute she pulled back, wiping her eyes with a mumbled, "Sorry."

"Don't be," Harry said. "Now, tell me what else is wrong. And don't try to lie and say there's nothing else," he said quickly when she opened her mouth. "You're my best friend. What else is wrong?"

Hermione gulped and took a deep breath. "Harry, I-"

"All hands on deck, NOW! Where are Healer Potter and Healer Granger?" boomed a voice outside of the door.

The pair glanced at each other before bolting out of the door and into chaos. It seemed every member of the hospital was running here and there through the emergency ward, shouting orders and grabbing supplies.

"There you are," Head Healer Donovan said upon seeing them. "Everybody, listen up! We've got nine Dark curse patients incoming! ETA is thirty seconds! Man your stations. Healer Stevens in room one, Healer Green in room two, Healer Woodridge in room three, Healer Granger in room four, Healer Potter in room five, Healer Flint in room six, Healer Bell in room seven, Healer Johnson in room eight, and Healer Turner in room nine! Mediwitches, assemble around your usual Healers!" He barked out the orders with an air of authority that Hermione never failed to admire. "Heads up, people. This was a raid gone bad. The first three victims are Aurors," he added solemnly, and Hermione's blood ran cold.

She began to walk blindly toward room four to wait for her patient and was confused when someone seemed to be holding her from behind. It took a moment for her to realize she'd started to fall and Harry had caught her. He spun her around and cupped her cheeks in both of his hands. "Listen to me," he said urgently. "If he is one of the patients, he's in good hands. He'll be fine, Hermione. Focus on your patient. Do your job, and let the other Healers do theirs. Don't try switching with anyone. Stick with your task. Focus. Breathe. Stabilize, diagnose, heal. Everything is going to be fine, do you understand me? Everything will be fine," he said firmly, and Hermione wondered if he was trying to convince himself as well. Still, she nodded mutely. He kissed her hard on the top of the head before releasing her face and sprinting to the doorway of room five to await his patient. She followed behind slightly slower and took her place in front of room four just as the EDAR doors burst open.

If she'd thought it was chaos before, it was nothing compared to what greeted them now. Roughly three dozen people swarmed in, nine of whom were being levitated by the others who were all yelling over one another in their urgency. Everything was a blur of black clothes and red blood, and the faces all swam together. Two Aurors she didn't recognize, at least not right now, rushed up to her with a severely bloodied auburn haired man levitated between them.

_Focus._ "What do we have?" she asked.

"Unknown curse, Healer. No idea if it was one of ours or one of theirs. It was a bloodbath out there," a salt-and-pepper-haired Auror told her loudly, trying to be heard over the din. Nausea roiled in her gut.

"Alright, put him on the bed. Nurse Kelly, Stasis Charm. Nurse Aldridge, diagnostics. Nurse Keys, stand by," she ordered as calmly as she could.

"Diagnostic results," Nurse Aldridge started after a moment, but a flash of platinum blonde hair caught Hermione's eye just briefly as it disappeared into room three, levitated in by three more Aurors and covered completely in blood and gore. Her ears rang and her vision blurred, and she thought she may actually pass out this time.

"Healer Granger? Healer Granger! Healer Granger!" Nurse Aldridge shouted, and Hermione tore herself back into the here and now.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled breathlessly. "Wha- What were the diagnostic results?"

Nurse Aldridge looked concerned and bewildered but repeated her findings and asked, "What now?"

_Focus. Breathe. Healer Woodridge is amazing. He's fine. He'll be fine. Stabilize, diagnose, heal. Stabilize, diagnose, heal._

Nurse Keys made to close the door, but Hermione shouted, "No!" and she froze. "I need the air," she covered quickly, when in reality she just wanted to be able to hear what was going on next door. The glow of the Cardio Monitoring Charm was visible through the hall, and it helped to ground her. It was green. He was alive.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Okay, here's what we're going to do." She ticked off orders and cast spells and charms out of habit, and for the next hour she was just able to zone out and do her job, though the green light from the other room was constantly registering in her peripheral vision. Her patient began to crash four different times, the CMC flashing red in warning, but each time she was able to bring him back to the green. At long last he was stable. Hermione began the short series of charms and spells necessary to keep him that way. Another two minutes and she'd be done. Another two minutes and she could slip into room three and assess the damage for herself. Another two minutes…

Flashing red caught her gaze, and she stilled, wand raised in the middle of a spell. "He's crashing!" she heard through the open doorway. _No._ Hermione redoubled her efforts, casting her magic faster than even she knew she was capable of. _Almost done. Almost. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on, hold on, hold on._ The air crackled and her hair flew around her wildly, and finally, finally, finally, she was done.

She spun and lunged for the open door. And froze. The flashing red light was gone. The bright green light was nowhere to be found. It their place was a soft pale blue light. The light that meant a heart had stopped. The light that meant there was no restarting it. The light that meant death. The light that meant her entire world had just ended.

She wasn't sure how long she stood staring at that blue light. She was vaguely aware of people saying her name, asking her questions, touching her arm, but she was numb to it all. Eventually her feet began to move, though she didn't know where they were taking her. She walked past room three without really seeing it, only just aware of the sheet that had been pulled so carefully over the face of the dead. Her dead. Her life.

And then she was running. She was running and she couldn't see and she couldn't breathe and she was going to vomit. A voice called out for her to wait. Harry, maybe? Yes, Harry. But she couldn't stop. She had to get out of this crypt, this house of the dead. For that's all it was now. It was no longer a place of healing; it was a place of losing.

She burst through the front doors of St. Mungo's EDAR ward and kept running along the pavement, shoving passersby aside until she was out of breath. She doubled over, clutching her sides and sobbing and dry heaving and asking _why, why, why_ , over and over.

Eventually she sobered enough to take in her surroundings. She was in the middle of a dark street with no street lamps, every house on the lane dark and silent. She didn't even recognize the area and had no idea what neighborhood it may be. Taking several deep breaths to center herself, she finally was just steady enough to Apparate home to their flat. Her flat now.

As soon as she rematerialized in the living room she regretted going home. Everything was Draco. The smell, the furnishings, the very air screamed his name. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks without her notice as she walked to their bedroom and into their closet. She pulled the first shirt belonging to him off of its hanger and slipped it on, burying her nose in the sleeve and inhaling what little piece of him she had left. She couldn't face their bed, not now, maybe not ever, so she walked stiffly back to the living room and curled into a tiny ball on the couch, feeling as dead as her lover was. She realized her shift hadn't been over, she hadn't even told her superior she was leaving, but it didn't matter. She'd never face those walls again anyway. Except to eventually claim his body, of course. She fought back nausea again at the thought.

She'd told him not to come back. She'd told him they were over. She'd told him she was done. So many harsh and horrible and untrue things she'd said to him, and so many things she should have said that she'd kept to herself. Things he'd never know. Because he was gone, and she'd never told him.

At some point she dozed into a fitful sleep full of his face and his smile, his touch and his laugh, his kisses and his tickles, his eyes and his hair, and she hurt. She heard his voice saying such sweet words, and she ached. She felt his arms holding her firm, and it was agony.

She tried to pull herself awake, away from the torturous sweetness of the dream, but he wouldn't leave. Funny how all she wanted was for him to be there with her, and yet all she wanted was to escape his memory until she could figure out how to deal with this anguish.

"Hermione, I'm here," his voice whispered in her head, in her heart. "I'm here, love. Shhh," he soothed, and she could practically feel his breath on her cheek.

It was then that she realized she'd been mumbling the same word over and over in her half-sleep for Merlin only knew how long. "Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead."

"No. Not dead. Hermione, look at me. Open your eyes. Hermione, open your eyes. I'm here. It wasn't me. Open your eyes, love. It wasn't me. It wasn't me." The hands on her forearms shaking her slightly felt so real. Too real.

She opened her eyes. Grey ones filled her vision, and the ache deepened, tinged with just a little worry. Was she going to go mad now? She'd thought she was made of stronger stuff than that.

Pale hands left her arms to cup her cheeks, running the thumbs underneath her swollen eyes and swiping away the salty tears still cascading downward. "I'm going crazy now," she mumbled, and the thought wasn't nearly as frightening as it should have been.

Soft, familiar laughter filled her ears, and her brows creased in confusion. "Baby, I'm here. It wasn't me. You're not crazy. I'm alive, Hermione. It wasn't me."

Hermione sat up slowly, her mouth falling open slightly as she tried to decipher reality from her overactive imagination. It couldn't be…

"No. I saw your body," she reasoned to the ghost in front of her.

He shook his head, and a lock of the beautiful platinum hair fell into his eyes. "I went to the hospital the second I could. Smith kept me for debriefing. You were right. We were ambushed. I couldn't leave until I'd been cleared. None of us who didn't have life-threatening injuries could, but the moment I was free I Apparated to St. Mungo's. Harry caught me in the hall and told me you'd run out crying. He told me he'd known why as soon as he saw the body in room three. The hair. But it was Stebbins, Hermione, not me. McGibbon sent a signal alerting Smith that we needed backup, thank Merlin, and Stebbins was among the reinforcements." He leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers, and her breath caught. "I'm alive, Hermione. I'm real. I'm here."

"Draco?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said, and she just caught a glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheek before his mouth was on hers and her world exploded once again, only this time with pure joy.

"Draco. Draco. Draco," she sobbed as their mouths hungrily claimed one another's. His hands twisted into her hair and pulled her close, closer, closer. She slipped her own hands beneath his shirt and up his back, relishing in the feel of the muscles there that she'd thought she'd never feel again.

Time lost all meaning. There was only skin and mouths and touches and tastes. There were only sighs and gasps and "I love you's" and "yes's". There was only the sliding of bodies and arching of hips and tears of relief and happiness and love. There was only Draco, and for him, there was only Hermione.

They lay together afterward, Draco's arms holding her tightly to his side and her head on his chest, listening to every beautiful, perfect beat of his strong heart. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled into her hair. "I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have gone at all. I didn't feel right about it either, you know? I've just always worried too much about letting everyone down after everything I did before. I didn't know how to tell them no."

"I know," she said. "I understand." And she did.

Draco kissed the top of her head tenderly, pulling her impossibly tighter against him. "I'm done, for the record. I told Smith I was resigning from the force. Starting on Monday, I'll officially be just a boring old Auror again, and honestly, I can't wait." He chuckled once before saying seriously, "I'll never put you through this again, Hermione. I promise."

"Good," she said. She tipped her head up to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "We need you here."

Draco frowned slightly, and his eyebrows drew together. "We?" he asked.

Hermione grinned sheepishly and took the hand that was resting on her side in her own, sliding it on top of her belly. "We," she confirmed.

She'd never forget the light that shone so brightly in the clear grey depths of Draco's eyes as comprehension dawned. "Really?" he whispered, and his face was a mixture of delight and terror that only served to amuse her. She nodded.

Draco whooped so loudly and suddenly that she jumped and would have fallen off of the couch had it not been for his strong grip on her. He rolled half on top of her and planted quick, sloppy kisses over every inch of skin he could reach until she was full-on belly laughing and swatting him away. Draco threw his head back and laughed ecstatically with her.

"How did this day take such a turn?" he wondered aloud as their laughter slowly died.

Hermione shrugged and scooted closer to him. "I have no idea, but I'm certainly not complaining."

Draco rested his chin on top of her head. "So, does this mean you'll finally marry me?" he asked.

She grinned. "Maybe," she joked.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too, Draco."


End file.
